


Dirty Laundry

by CR Noble (erudite12)



Series: I Fought the Law [2]
Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Detective!AU, F/M, Hunter!Reader, detective!dean, forensic tech!castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:59:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7404331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erudite12/pseuds/CR%20Noble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the song Dirty Laundry by Don Henley<br/>Warnings: Some language, talking about dead bodies and the weirdness surrounding said bodies, I think that’s all.<br/>Word Count 1300 ish<br/>Characters: Dean Smith, Castiel Novak, the Medical Examiner, Reader insert</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Laundry

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Detective!Dean AU. I’m really excited about this series, but just as a disclaimer, I know very little about autopsies, etc. Significantly less than I know about investigative police work, so I tried not to get too specific on details. I hope you enjoy!!!! Feedback is the best!

  


Images are not mine. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, walking up behind the tech in the forensics lab that was his natural habitat. The man looked over his shoulder at Dean and smiled.

“Good morning, Detective,” he replied, and then went back to his task. Dean stayed quiet while Cas finished putting something in a vial and placing it in a centrifuge. He turned to face Dean and leaned back against the table. “Is there something I can help you with?”

 

“Yeah, actually. I’m about to go down to the M.E.’s office to check out the bodies and I was thinking I could use an extra pair of eyes.” Dean smiled as he spoke.

“You want me to go with you?” Cas raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. You seem like you have an eye for odd things, and I have a gut feeling I’m going to need that.” They stared at each other for a moment. “Well, are you coming?”

Cas jumped to his feet. “Oh, um, yeah. Yes, of course. Lead the way, Detective.” Dean stalked out of the forensics lab with Cas close on his tail. As they boarded an elevator and Dean pressed the button for the basement floor, Cas asked, “So, what is it that you think you need me for?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I just know that something isn’t right about this case,” Dean replied,“You seem pretty smart, and with your insight, I might be able to shed some light on whatever weirdness is happening here.” Cas just nodded. The pair stood in awkward silence until the elevator dinged their arrival on the basement floor. Dean knocked on the Medical Examiner’s door to let her know they were there and she led him down a corridor into the morgue.

“So, which weird bodies do you want to talk about first?” The M.E. asked Dean as she walked over to a wall of chilled cabinets.

“Well, let’s start with the beheaded ones,” he replied, smiling.

The M.E. nodded and opened one of the doors on the wall, rolling a long silver slab covered by a pristine white sheet. She pulled the sheet back, folding it crisply, to reveal the head placed as close as possible to its rightful place without being reattached. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Castiel lean a little closer to the body, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed in concentration, looking for anything that might be out of place. Dean looked at the M.E., waiting for her to report her findings.

“Okay, so the decapitating cut was very clean, not really much to talk about there. I can’t estimate a time of death for you, though. It was the oddest thing; I tried to do a liver temp, and they all came back ice cold. It was like they’ve been dead for weeks, at least. It’s unheard of.”

“What could cause that?” Castiel asked with his eyes still focused on the body.

“It’s hard to say. To be honest, I’ve been the Medical Examiner her for fifteen years and I’ve never seen anything like it. At least not in bodies that were supposed to be fresh.” She turned the head toward them and continued, “That wasn’t the only oddity about these bodies. While I was examining the head, I noticed some unusual ridges on the gums.” She pulled the upper lip of the bodiless head up so that Dean and Cas could see. “I wasn’t sure what they were, so I cut into the gums and there appeared to be a second set of roots. There weren’t any teeth attached to the roots and if I had only found this in one of the victims, I’d have set it aside as some weird genetic mutation, but it was present in all four vics.”

“That does seem odd,” Dean said. “Is it possible they were related?”

“Don’t know, DNA hasn’t come back yet.”

Castiel nodded.“That’s what I was working on when you grabbed me from the lab,” he told Dean, then turned to the M.E. “What about the other bodies?”

“They were actually significantly more straightforward. There were ten bodies. All of them died by exsanguination, time of death ranging between 24 hours ago and about a week ago. There were ligature marks on their ankles, indicating that they were hung upside down to drain the blood. Whoever did it had at least a little medical knowledge because the blood was drained via a central line catheter inserted into the jugular.”

Dean nodded and thanked her, and he and Cas turned and walked out of the morgue.

“The plot thickens,” Cas said quietly.

* * *

 

You stopped at a shitty burger joint on your way back to the dingy motel room you were occupying in Kansas City. The djinn was turning out to be quite a bit more difficult than you had expected. People were still disappearing, and you hadn’t found the bastard yet. The springs of the queen size bed creaked and groaned as you flopped down to eat and decompress with a little TV. Of course, the motel didn’t have cable so there were only six channels available and there was nothing good on any of them, so you flipped over to the local news hoping to see something that might help you crack your current case.

“Blah, blah, blah, weather, blah, blah, blah, traffic,” you muttered to yourself as you watched the news and took oversized bites from your burger. You hated the news, it was so damn boring. The stupid attempts at heartwarming stories made you want to vomit. “Oh, a fireman saved a kitty from a tree! How flipping fantastic.” You took another bite and shouted at the TV, “No one cares about your stupid cat, you old biddy!” You watched a sweet looking grandmother cradling the kitten while speaking with a reporter. “God, I can’t believe this is actually news.” You picked up the remote and were about to turn the TV off when you saw something that caught your eye, a banner across the bottom of the screen that read “Mass Murder is Lawrence.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you thought. I hope nobody saw me. The anchor recounted details that she probably shouldn’t have known about. She must have a source inside the police department.

“Kansas State Police have only one suspect in this crime, according to Detective Dean Smith, who was born and raised in the small town of Lawrence.” You were leaning forward, staring intently at the TV with your eyes narrowed. That was the cop you’d hooked up with at the bar that night. A sketch appeared on the screen next to the blonde bimbo’s head. It was a very detailed sketch and it was a sketch of you. The blood drained from your face as you watched. You couldn’t seem to turn away. “The suspect’s name is Y/N Winchester, and she is wanted in connection with several other crimes. She was last seen at a Motel 6 in Lawrence, but has since disappeared. Do not approach her if you see her. The police are considering her armed and dangerous. She has a previous criminal record that includes credit card fraud, theft, and assault. If you have any information regarding Y/N Winchester, please call the number on the screen.”

You jotted the number down. You might be able to feed them some anonymous false information if it became necessary, or at least that’s what you told yourself. Somewhere down deep, it bothered you that people might think you were a murderer. It bothered you that Dean Smith might think you were a murderer. But mostly, this was going to make doing your job a lot harder and that pissed you off. Almost as much as the fact that the news had decided to broadcast your dirty god-damned laundry. You needed to find that djinn, and you needed to find it now.

You had to get the hell out of Kansas for a while.


End file.
